


he looks just like you

by aubades



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, hadrian is basically the filling of a god sandwich i guess, im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 22:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12045219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubades/pseuds/aubades
Summary: Hadrian thinks he must be dreaming because the bed underneath him is much larger than any he's been on before, its sheets impossibly warm and soft, cascading off of his thighs. He leans forward on his elbows, glancing around the unfamiliar room, taking in the dark, rich furniture, the tapestries of stories he doesn't recognize. The crackle of a fire can be heard in the air, but the fireplace is nowhere to be seen."Oh, you're awake," says a quiet, familiar voice.





	he looks just like you

**Author's Note:**

> This stemmed from an extremely dumb tweet I made a few days ago like "oh boy it sure would be messed up if Samot told Hadrian he looked like Samothes" and somehow I ended up with this....listen I am not proud of myself. Anyway,,,, [drags hands across face] here you go.

Hadrian thinks he must be dreaming because the bed underneath him is much larger than any he's been on before, its sheets impossibly warm and soft, cascading off of his thighs. He leans forward on his elbows, glancing around the unfamiliar room, taking in the dark, rich furniture, the tapestries of stories he doesn't recognize. The crackle of a fire can be heard in the air, but the fireplace is nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, you're awake," says a quiet, familiar voice.

Normally, Hadrian would jump, would scramble for his weapon, but here in this room, his movements feel slow - not constricting, but instead languid, careless in a way that he hasn't felt in a very long time.

Hadrian looks over and finds a beautiful man sitting at a small desk in the corner of the room. He seems to have been in the middle of working, papers scattered across the table, but now Samot rests his chin on his hand, regarding Hadrian with smile.

Hadrian suddenly realizes he is stark naked in the light of the fire, save for his ring hanging on a chain around his neck. It feels heavier than usual, weighing him down onto the bed.

Hadrian thinks he must be dreaming because how else would Samot be wearing the very white cloak that he had gifted to the paladin those many months ago. Yet, as the god walks slowly toward the bed, like a wolf approaching its prey, there is a tremor, a hum in the air that feels incredibly real.

Samot sinks down onto the bed next to him, still fully clothed, and places a hand flat on Hadrian's chest, pushing him back down. Hadrian finds his breath pushed out of him as well, and he chokes, gasping for air as he watches Samot unhinge the cloak, dropping it to the floor.

Samot's hair is lit by the light of the fire, shining even more radiant gold than Hadrian remembers, brilliant like the sun. _The sun_ , thinks Hadrian, choking again. The ring around his neck starts to burn into his skin, causing Hadrian to tightly clench the bedsheets underneath his hands, but he is unable to find the strength to open his mouth and cry out.

As if he senses it - and of course he does - Samot slides his cool fingers underneath the ring, pulling the searing heat away from Hadrian's chest. He tugs lightly on the chain, but not so hard as to break it. Hadrian exhales sharply through his nose at the relief, and watches, his heart pounding in his chest, as Samot turns the ring over and over in his hand.

Samot's violet eyes flicker up to meet Hadrian's. He seems to change his mind about something, and he reaches around with his other hand to pull Hadrian back up until they are sitting face to face on the bed. Still holding the ring, Hadrian's mouth runs dry as Samot presses it to his lips, giving it a soft kiss, sighing lightly, before putting it in front of Hadrian's face for him to do the same.

Hadrian's cheeks burn, almost as hot as the ring had been itself, but when he kisses the symbol of Samothes, he is startled to find that it's cool on his lips.

Samot lets the ring drop back to Hadrian's chest. The metal connects with his sternum and pain blossoms across his ribs.

Hadrian watches Samot shrug out of the rest of his clothes, his pale skin shining like starlight in the soft glow of the bedroom. He feels exceedingly tired and warm, despite being naked, as Samot coaxes Hadrian into his lap, pulling Hadrian's pliant body against his own. Samot grips his hips so hard they'll surely bruise, as the god kisses Hadrian deeply, slowly, like he is barely able to hold back from devouring the paladin whole. There's something about Samot that is as harsh and cold as the never-ending winter of Hieron itself, but also as blinding-hot as a star fallen from the sky.

It's when Hadrian realizes that he's kissing Samot back, digging his nails into Samot's shoulders and dragging them down the other man's sides, that he becomes aware of how hard he is against Samot's thigh. Samot, always one step ahead, chuckles softly and reaches down to take Hadrian in his hand.

Finally, Hadrian does cry out, and he closes his eyes, dropping his forehead onto Samot's shoulder, pushing his face into the crook of Samot's neck. Samot whispers something that Hadrian is unable to hear through the rush of blood in his ears, but Samot strokes him, almost tenderly, and brings his mouth to whisper directly into Hadrian's ear.

"He looks just like you, husband," Samot murmurs.

For a moment, Hadrian is confused, because why would Samot call him husband? But then he feels another presence behind him, slotting easily against Hadrian's back, and large, sturdy hands come to rest against the base of his neck, circling around until fingers dig into the hollow of his throat.

Hadrian's feels Samothes tilt his head back until his neck is vulnerable, exposed to the air. His eyes flash open as his god pulls on the chain, until the ring, the symbol of his devotion, of the divine power granted to him by the very man now placing kisses along his shoulder blades, is pressed flush against his throat. Hadrian gasps, feels the heat building up, the scorching line of metal burning along his skin, but as soon as Samothes releases the chain, it falls cool once again.

Samot laughs, voice light and musical, still gripping Hadrian, centering the paladin between the two gods. There is movement, and Hadrian's vision is obscured by Samot's chest, but he can feel the two of them kissing above his head, like a greeting after a long time apart.

Samothes moves, pulling Hadrian up with one hand under the paladin's thigh. Hadrian shivers as he feels the other hand trace down his spine, along the curve of his ass. He lets his head loll forward, back onto Samot. Samot hums, carding a hand through Hadrian's hair, still stroking him steadily, though it now feels more teasing, less kind.

"He looks just like you," Samot repeats, as Samothes pushes a finger into Hadrian and a loud groan is torn from Hadrian's chest.

It isn't long until Hadrian, brow furrowed, is gasping open-mouthed into Samot's chest as Samothes presses his finger deep inside of him. Hadrian whines at the sensation, at the fullness, at the heat of Samothes' hand. Samot holds Hadrian in place, threading his fingers through Hadrian's hair, pulling slightly, the other still on Hadrian's cock. The ring dangles from Hadrian's neck, glinting in the light of the fire.

Samothes pulls his hand away, just for a moment to reposition himself, and Samot says, "Little paladin, isn't it wonderful to finally meet your god?"

Samothes enters Hadrian easily, pulls him back with strong hands, until Hadrian is leaning with his back against Samothes' chest, away from Samot. Samot keeps his hand on Hadrian though, like a tether, working Hadrian as Samothes slowly begins to move, and a cry escapes from Hadrian's lips.

Hadrian is too far gone for coherent thoughts, but he still feels the urge burning in his chest, the need to look at his god's face as Samothes thrusts into him. He finds himself mumbling something, and although he's not quite sure what he's saying, Hadrian feels a breath on the back of his neck, a soft laugh from a voice that he has long desired to hear.

Samothes pulls out of Hadrian, twisting the paladin around in his lap, until they are facing each other. Hadrian looks into the eyes of his god as he pushes back inside of him, thrusting deep as Hadrian stutters for breath. Samot presses a kiss to the back of Hadrian's head.

"Beautiful," Samot whispers, but Hadrian doesn't know to whom he's referring.

As Samothes fucks him, slow and methodical, Samot keeps his hand loose but secure around Hadrian's cock. Hadrian feels so hot it's almost unbearable, like his bones are heating first before his skin. He can feel the sweat rolling down his temple, and his legs are slick where Samothes grips him, but he's held together by the gods on either of his side.

He leans down with a whimper, pressing his face into Samothes' neck, feeling the ring between the two of them, the reminder of his place. The two gods are kissing each other again, and Samot is saying something too quiet for Hadrian to hear, whispering into the mouth of his husband. Hadrian can feel himself drifting, lost to the push and pull, the feeling of skin on skin, of tangled limbs and insistent hands.

But then he can feel something drawing him back into the moment, a calm voice, repeating his name.

"Hadrian," says Samothes, voice low and warm, and he presses a kiss to Hadrian's forehead just as the paladin comes.

He's gone for a moment, lost to the roar of stimulation coursing throughout his body. When Hadrian returns, he finds Samot and Samothes pressed flush together, having taken each other into their hands. He watches as Samothes ducks his head against Samot's, kissing the other man's neck over and over again, whispering fervently like a prayer, holding Samot tight like he is worried Samot will run away. Yet, Samot just grins wide, bearing his teeth like the wolf he is, dragging his hands through Samothes' hair, pulling and tugging until they soon climax together. Chests heaving, they collapse back down onto the bed, on either side of Hadrian, whose hands still tremble.

Hadrian thinks he must be dreaming because how else would his god and his god's husband be curled up against him, humming content while a fire crackles in the air?

Hadrian thinks he must be dreaming, but he drifts back off to sleep all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Pour one out for Hadrian, the bad sad paladin dad who really doesn't understand why he got caught up in the middle of the world's longest divorce.


End file.
